For A Few Sand Dollars More
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: Jack thought he was just giving little Willy a harmless lesson about sea creatures, but new mothers can be awfully skittish. General audience.


'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney

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The previous night's squall had cast a generous abundance of marine specimens onto the white beach. Fourteen-month-old William Turner the Third couldn't explore it fast enough.

Tottering on short, sturdy legs, the dark-haired toddler made steady progress down the wave-marked sand, finding object after fascinating object. Occasionally he'd pick something up and bring it to the taller figure shadowing him, always warbling his favorite question.

"Wass at?"

Captain Jack Sparrow, clad a short pair of breeches and sword belt (which was one article more than Willy wore), leaned down to inspect the lad's latest find- a shiny black crumble. "That be a mermaid's purse. At least that's what it's called. 'Tis actually the case what protected a stingray's egg. The wee ray has hatched an' swum off now- see the hole where it slipped out?"

The wondering brown eyes stared where the pirate pointed. There were moments, Sparrow could swear, when the whelpling seemed able to understand every word being said to him. Jack knew that was an illusion, but none the less, he habitually spoke to the little boy in the same manner he would to anyone else. That was easier, in any case.

Willy's attention soon shifted back to the beach, and the possibilities ahead. Dropping the egg case, the child tottered on towards the end of the sand spit. Jack followed as before, smiling fondly.

"You're most fortunate, lad, ta have such a bonnie beach fer your playground. When I was around yer age, I had naught but a smelly mud-strewn river bank, with undesirable company lurkin' about the edges. Not that ye need have any worries about that while I'm around." Jack fingered his sword hilt as he glared down the row of beach-side palm trees, checking for any sign of hidden villains.

Seeing his charge was headed towards a long-spined black object, Jack quickly moved to head the boy off. "You don't want to be touching that, William. That's a sea urchin- the spikes'll break off under your skin an' hurt fer weeks. Better to jus' look."

The boy eyed the prickly ball gravely, before determinedly moving on. Soon he found a far friendlier object; a small pale disc, marked with a delicate pattern resembling a five-petaled flower.

"Ah, this is a sand dollar. Not the kind ye can spend, but it's a pretty thing. What say you, we keep this to give to yer Mum?" Willy babbled in happy agreement, so Jack took the disc and slipped it into one of his own pockets.

The two soon reached the end of the sand spit, and continued around the curve to the sheltered cove. There was less storm-tossed debris here, but a beautiful view- a basin of bright turquoise water, shading to deeper blue in the center where the reefs began.

Willy's stare snapped up, to a large black shape gliding overhead. "Wass at?"

"A frigate bird. Sometimes called a 'pirate bird' fer it's thieving ways. 'Can snatch another seabird's catch without missing a wing beat, that one!" Jack flashed a comradely salute at the dark flyer, before it winged from sight.

"Wass at?" Willy's dimpled hand was now directed towards the water, where an irregularity stirred beyond the surf zone. Two blue-gray protrusions broke the surface, just at the edge of the reef.

Jack blinked. "Why, that's a shark! Over two armswidths long! Most unusual to see one that size this close to shore." Jack eagerly scooped Willy up and set him on his shoulders, affording him a better view. "You can estimate the length by checkin' the distance between the dorsal fin an' the tail tip. And what kind, from the color an' shape of those points. That one's a sandbar shark, no doubt hunting fer reef fish."

Though he could only see the edge of Willy's face, the child's excited bouncing clearly indicated his wishes. "Aye, we can get a bit closer. This hain't one o' the tribe with a taste fer man flesh." Jack carefully waded out, to where the waves lapped against his hips. He and his passenger could now make out the sizable undulating body, patrolling the bountiful fringe of the reef. Once the great fish turned sharply, flashing a pale underside, the pointed caudal fin lashing the surface like a whip.

Willy leaned hard over the top of Jack's head, babbling nonstop. "Those beasties do have a mesmerizin' way of movin', eh? You start watchin' one of 'em, an' you can almost forget where you..."

He was cut off by an outraged feminine shout. "JACK SPARROW!!!"

The addressed party flinched. "We'd best be headin' in, whelp - theer's a storm approaching fast!" The pirate dutifully turned and waded back to shore.

That storm- Captain Elizabeth Turner of the Empress- was stomping up the beach in a flurry of kicked-up sand, loose-fitting blouse and trousers flapping, her face a veritable thundercloud. "What Do You Think You're Doing?? Taking Willy that close to a dangerous animal!!"

Jack was grimacing from another cause. "Now, Liege, you've no cause ta shout like that. To judge from the pullin' on me hair, yer upsetting the whelp." Indeed; the toddler's fists were clutching the dreadlocks tightly, his stare wide and anxious.

"Don't you try to make me the bad guy here!" But Elizabeth did lower the volume of her voice, leaning close to make sure Jack still heard every furious word. "That beast could have bitten your leg- even taken your foot off- and Willy would've been pitched into the water with it! Did that ever occur to you?!"

"A most unlikely scenario. 'Tis but a sandbar shark- they have a confirmed preference fer fish," Jack pouted.

"Even fish-eaters have teeth! And don't think that kicked-puppy look is getting you off the hook- I've seen it far too often! Just give him here." The woman raised her arms, preparing to lift the boy down and away. Willy gripped Jack's braids even tighter, wailing piteously.

Sparrow, stifling a wince, spoke with the very voice of reason. "Lizzie, theer's no need ta be spoilin' the child's most enjoyable, an' educational, sojourn over this." Sensing an opportune moment, Jack took something from his pocket and slipped it into Willy's hand. "Here, lad- why don't you show yer Mum what you found?"

Most fortuitously, William Jr. was in his Fully Comprehending mode. He stopped crying, and stretched forth his plump arm, offering the sand dollar to his mother.

Elizabeth glowered. "That's an insidious strategy, Jack- recruiting my own son into an effort to manipulate me!"

"Only to prevent yer overreactin', luv." Sparrow conjured up his most innocent expression. "Don't take away me little mate, jus' when he's havin' the most fun. Please?"

Two pairs of melting brown eyes proved to be an unassailable fortress. Liz sighed as she accepted the sand dollar, knowing very well that, by doing so, she was signaling a truce. / The things I let that cheeky knave get away with... /

"All right, Captain Sparrow; as this is your first offense, I'll refrain from exacting the full penalty. But I'll expect you to exercise more prudence in the future."

Jack solemnly raised one palm. "I swear to you, on pain of death, I shall never again go wading with sharks whilst in custody of wee William."

"Don't think I won't hold you to that! If I learn of even one more such..."

Lizzie's voice trailed off, her eye caught by an admittedly splendid sight. The aforementioned shark, for whatever reason, had swum upshore and was now cruising parallel to the beach. Had it been the creature's deliberate intent to display itself to them, it could hardly have done better. The large dorsal fin split the surface with hardly a sound, carving clear ripples which danced over the streamlined back. The powerful tail stroked, effortlessly propelling the great bluish form, the trailing pectorals coaxing tiny sand clouds from the seabed.

Willy squealed with excitement, banging his heels just below Jack's collarbone. The three watched, transfixed, until the animal disappeared back into the depths with a last graceful tail-flick.

"Can you really blame the whelp fer wantin' a look at that?" Jack inquired placatingly. "You have to admit, it's a most impressive beastie."

"Yes, it is. And so is an iceberg. And they've both better admired from a distance."

Jack's face brightened with recollection. "I remember the first time I ever saw an iceberg! We maneuvered the ship alongside, an' I threw a line across ta..."

"On second thought; forget I made that comparison," Liz groaned. Planting fists on her hips, she gave the other captain a singular look; one part affection, three parts annoyance. "Honestly, Jack, sometimes I think you're the one who needs watching! Plunging into everything you want to see or do, with no thought for the risks- it's like you're not that much older than Willy!"

Jack tilted his head, smiling guilelessly. "But you love me anyways, don't you, darlin'?"

"Yes. Now I don't care to discuss it any further."

Jack's eyebrows shot up, but Liz headed off any reply, glancing skyward to check the sun. "It's nearly noon. We ought to be getting back to our ships for lunch."

That last word was one Willy definitely understood. He exclaimed loudly, wiggling so hard Jack was obliged to put him down. The instant his feet touched sand, the lad started to hurry back the way they'd come, making good speed despite tripping once or twice.

Jack lengthened his stride to catch up. "Hey, wait up, whelpling!" He took Willy's hand to guard against further stumbles.

Elizabeth deliberately let the pair get ahead of her, and soon found herself grinning at the sight. If she squinted a bit, she could almost take the wiry pirate for a teenager, giving a helping hand to his lively baby brother. Certainly they looked like kindred spirits- two browned, free youngsters, sauntering along the sunlit beach as though neither had a care in the world.

"Sometimes, it really is as if I had two little boys," she mumured.

This time it was not a complaint.  
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FINIS

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FYI: The 'sandbar shark' in this story is Carcharhinus plumbeus; a large but unaggressive species found throughout the Caribbean.  
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End file.
